#player: sleuth

[p0ssumkingdom]

jezus christ im done

ill get to the godtiers l8r

[evercaptor]

[pokebob28]

Nokia was originally meant to be this game’s protagonist and in this essay I will-

[dullahandyke]

been toying around with debian's default programs and found it comes with text to speech and the preloaded voices are a treat. this is the second one i tried

[holmesoldfellow]

"Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective Volume 1" video game released on CDTV, DOS, DVD Player, FM Towns, Macintosh, SEGA CD, TurboGrafx CD, and VIS (1991, ICOM Simulations and Sega) with sequel Volumes 2 and 3

[antirepurp]

nooo not a 2015 ps vita game having cool real-time corruption textures on its characters when sonic frontiers (2022) didn't nooooo

[entirelysmoothbrain]

note to others : i am DEFINITELY not a live youngling herring. i have NOT been PICKLED for your enjoyment (*wonk*) and am in no way wanting to be thrown in that ol’ briar patch you call a stomach

bawh gawd off the top of the steel cage a canner with the canning kit out of nowhere 16ft down through the announcers table

oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiii

what else does this fish suggest

[flygonscales]

Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth Hacker’s Memory Chapters 14 to 15: The Gang Goes To The Hospital

[puckinghischier]

Currently sitting here daydreaming about being on the boat with the Hughes boys. Like, just imagine sitting in front of where Jack is as his hands rest against your shoulders where he’s softly massing your bare shoulders as he’s talking with Quinn and Luke as he cheekily plays with the strings of your bikini top, but you go to playfully slap his hand away as he’d chuckle and lean down to kiss your head as he’d pull you in closer as he’d whisper, “Sorry, pretty girl. Just can’t help myself when you look so beautiful. You know what that bikini does to me.”

“no, seriously, i think he’s gonna be even better this year. have you seen the work he’s been putting in this summer? the man is basically the hulk now,” luke rambles on, talking about someone on an opposing team, the name lost on you, not having tuned in to the full conversation.

you’re too busy feeling the warm sun on your darkening skin, basking in the feeling of being on the water.

“okay, you’re exaggerating a bit. he’s definitely been working hard, but he’s only worrying about strength, not skill or stamina,” you hear quinn’s voice respond.

you’re listening intently for clues at this point, too nosy for your own good, wanting to figure out who they’re talking about, but you can’t be bothered enough to ask.

“he’s definitely gotta work on his diet, too. heard he eats nothing but sugar and junk after games. can’t be helping the stats any,” your own boyfriend chimes in, nearly being able to feel the words leave his body as you’re leaned up against him, letting him rub soothing circles on your bare shoulders.

quinn and luke both mumble something in return, but you’re distracted by the switch up in rhythm of your lazy massage. his hands creep down farther towards the front of your shoulders, brushing your exposed collar bones.

leaning farther back, letting him know how much you like the new pattern, you force yourself back into sleuth mode.

“i just can’t imagine paying that much for a personal trainer out in LA just to throw it all away with bad habits. heard he’s been partying like crazy, too,” it’s quinn’s voice that gives you the clues.

LA? so they’re talking about someone from either the kings or the ducks.

as you’re running through your mental roster of each team, you feel the small strip of fabric on your shoulder be lifted from your skin, jack’s fingers slipping underneath to caress the soft skin there.

you keep yourself focused on your train of thought, knowing trevor has an affinity for sugary snacks and junk food, but surely they’re not talking about him?

“it just seems like a waste to me. kid’s got a lot of potential, but seems like he’s throwing it away before he even gets started,” your ears perk at the sound of luke’s voice.

so they’re talking about a prospect? or a rookie?

focusing even harder, thinking back to all of the conversations of jack’s you’ve overheard concerning this season’s prospects, you try to remember any mention of a player that fits the criteria.

however, all that focus you’re channeling goes straight to the feeling of one of your thin straps loosening dangerously. snapping your eyes open, you turn your head to try and see what happened, noticing large, nimble fingers toying with the half-untied not.

you bring your hand up immediately to swat his out of the way, clamping it down to stop any wardrobe malfunctions from occurring.

saying nothing, you turn ever so slightly to glare up at him, noticing the cheeky smile on his face as he looks at his brothers.

you bring your other hand over to re-tie the knot, huffing when you feel his rough hands move to the other shoulder, already toying with the other strap.

“would you stop it? we’re on a boat with your brothers. behave,” you quietly scold so that only he could hear, not wanting to disrupt the conversation you were trying so hard to decipher.

he glanced down at you, smirking before leaning his mouth down to your ear. “sorry, pretty girl. just can’t help m’self. look so pretty in all these colors,” he whispers against your skin, letting his hot breath fan over the sensitive spot behind your ear.

you shiver slightly, craning your neck to give him access to more of your skin, the sensation making you unable to focus on anything else.

“know you wore it just for me. s’my favorite, told you that, didn’t i?” he asks you, focusing his touch on your upper arms now, rubbing up and down in a teasing manner, drawing out goosebumps on your smooth skin.

“mmm, can’t remember, did you?” you basically pant out, swallowing a groan at the feeling of his lips placing a kiss to the top of your neck, tongue peeking out only slightly to taste your warm skin. he knows how quickly you fall apart at the action, eliciting the exact reaction he wanted from you.

his chuckle vibrates through your body, but the sound is covered up by the hum of a boat speeding by your stationary one, bringing you back to the reality of where you were.

you sit up, distancing yourself from jack only slightly, eyes glancing around to make sure no one witnessed the little ‘moment’ you and jack just had.

you swallow thickly, willing every nerve in your body to calm the fuck down.

quinn and luke are too wrapped up in their conversation to realize jack hadn’t chimed in for a few minutes, so they were completely oblivious to what he just tried to do.

relief washes over you, sinking back into jack.

“don’t think this is over, sweet girl,” he speaks lowly into your ear once again. “can’t promise they won’t hear just how happy this little suit of yours makes me when we get back to the house,” he finishes, causing your stomach to drop in anticipation.

you gulp as he raises back up, going back to rubbing your shoulders as if nothing ever happened.

“what do you think, jack? think he’s got the stamina to compete?” quinn asks his younger brother, continuing the conversation neither of you were focused on anymore, not noticing how rigid you’ve suddenly become.

“oh, i don’t know. guess we’ll have to see,” he shrugs. “we all know how important stamina is, after all,” he squeezes your shoulders, letting you know his words were meant for you, not his brothers.

when you can practically feel the smirk on his mouth as he said those words, you decided that buying this bikini was both the best and worst decision you made this summer.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 [𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 2.5k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

Dean tried to be discreet when he looked at you in any scenario.

Across the room, beside you, in the back of Baby, in the distance or even in his memories, he thought himself to be a sleuth in the way his pupils expanded, heart pounded faster, and hands clenched into fists.

You sent him into a spiral of himself. An utter ache; fluttering feelings that he couldn’t control and send blood rushing throughout his body and thoughts manifesting images of you he felt filthy to feel.

Today was like any other—well, sort of.

The Bunker was quiet except for the sounds of his television and you and Sam behind him playing foosball behind him. The entire time your game had been happening, Dean was glad neither you or Sam could see him as he could barely contain the soft smile that plastered onto his face at every complaint you made toward his brother. The accusations of cheating and not following the rules, Dean had expected nothing less from you after you’d offered to take Sam up on a game.

And Sam gave what you did back to you. Growing the animosity and frustration, Dean attempted to focus his attention on whatever movie was playing on the channel he had turned to simply to break his distraction you consistently gave him.

“You can’t do that!” You argued behind him. “Sam, there’s a rule book for a reason. The timer gives ten—“

“It was less than ten!” Sam defended and Dean visualized what it looked like. Sam, arms on his hips, pointing to the middle field and his eyebrows raised high while he tried to rationalize whatever he had done.

“It was twelve and that’s the second time!”

Sam huffed. The spindle of one of his rows sounded and continued to spin as the little player spun into oblivion within the table.

“I don’t know why I agreed to play with you,” Sam responded.

You blanked. “You asked me, Sam. Just because you can’t play the game right doesn’t mean you get to be a sore-“

“I am not a sore loser! Okay? I just…” Sam let out a groan of frustration and grabbed his beer off the side of the table. “I think we’ve played enough today.”

“Wha-“ you lifted your hands in protest and gawked as he backed away from the table and tapped the back of Dean’s chair.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” he told both of you but directed toward Dean. “You can play.”

“Hey!” You said offensively. “I can’t wait against Dean!”

Sam turned back to you and gave wide eyes. “Good!”

“You asshole!” A laugh escaped you and Dean felt it as music to his ears. If he heard it again, he was sure they’d light themselves on fire. “Now I remember why we don’t ever come in here.”

Making his way to the doorway, Sam nodded his head in agreement and pointed to Dean.

“It’s really because of him. This is too…” he motioned around the room with a sour look on his face, “it’s too much Dean.”

“Oh come on!” Dean turned off the television. “This is my cave, Sammy. Not yours or anyone else’s. So yeah, it’s all me. If you can’t handle it, then no more…” he tried to think of something to come back with as he stood up from his chair. “No more drinks! Or playing foosball!”

Sam continued on beyond the doorway and into the hall before yelling in the distance: “I don’t even like foosball!”

You looked to Dean. “Yes he does. He’s a liar.”

“Yeah,” he said exaggeratedly, dismissing Sam’s tantrum into the usual and took stance at the end of the table, not the opposite side. “You wanna play?”

You knew if you did, you’d lose. You always lost against Dean and you didn’t know how someone could have a talent for foosball alone. You’d seen him sweep pool and darts and cards but on the table, he was a different person. Like a wiz of the nerds who spent forty hours perfecting the spins of the nozzles and angle of the ball.

Dean could see the resignation in your eyes but he wanted to savor your company. His own two green eyes softening and relaxing himself to simply look—to take in and relish what a magnificent being you were. He wanted to throw up. He couldn’t believe that he was actively thinking that way for anyone.

“I think it’s my turn to check out too,” you said with an apology laced within the words. “It’s late, we’ve got places to be tomorrow.”

“I get it.” He didn’t, but he did too. He would stay awake forever if it meant you’d just look at him.

“But maybe another time? I don’t think I can take losing for the millionth time tonight.”

“Sure,” he nodded. His knuckles rapped against the wood. You peered at him, eyes tracing over his shoulders and broad chest. “Another time.”

“You should get some rest too.” You walked to saddle up beside him. Hip leaning onto the wood, a mere few inches between you and it made it hard for him to not twitch his fingers. He had to tell himself not to look at your face because if he did, his eyes would wander and they’d give him away. So, instead, he hummed in agreement.

“For what it’s worth,” you said lowly and looked at him to the point where he couldn’t avoid not looking back, “I like it in here. It’s so… you.”

The smile you gave him imprinted itself onto his heart.

“And you’ve got the best drinks.” You winked, eyes flicking around his face as his own lit up. You liked this version of Dean. The one where the walls weren’t up and he let himself feel something more than hurt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without thinking, you gave his forearm a squeeze and pulled away. Your fingers lifted up and dragged onto his skin ever so slightly and left him feeling cold when all your body had given him warmth. The fabric of your shirt nearly brushed his and he could smell the lingering soaps and sprays that made you fill a room float around him and away as your footsteps carried you out.

Dean closed his eyes to breathe it in. The tendrils of your leaving spilled into his soul; gripping him and pulling him to these places he neglected and forced into the darkness of the undeserved. The streams of blood within him rushed again. It flowed from vein to vein and from the tips of his fingers to his toes and conjured images of you.

You in every which way. You smiling at him. Beaming and joyous and the tinge of sadness that stole the golden gleam of your perfection stuck his heart like an arrow. The simplistic nature of the natural pull; an illicit revelation that Dean handled poorly. Neglected and ignored until those affections pounded on his chest to be heard. Screeching inside of his mind to paint images he’d rather die than have you witness what he wanted, needed of you.

The tremble of his fingertips wisped the hairs on his head backwards and he bounded off, away from the room and to his own. Dean felt that in the protection of his room he’d be safe. He could be relieved of this covet to simply go to bed.

Yet the second he shut the door and rested his back upon the wooden slab, he knew that peace wouldn’t come. There were no good ideas that festered in his bedroom. Guns slung onto the wall being a reminder of his tasks, the bed made but void of belonging, and the walls of concrete that bring no comfort or solace to him. So, he shook his head of you and walked to the bathroom and saw himself in the reflection.

Dean gripped onto the sides of the sink and closed his eyes. He felt the phantom of you walk in, sneak behind him and snake your hands along the sides of his body and rest your body upon his back. Dean heeded the fantasy of your fingertips grazing his body and leaving your trail of kisses onto his back, threatening to whisper into his ear and tell him that this dream was foolish.

He sighed, heavily, and opened his eyes to see himself alone and turned on the shower to the midway lukewarm water the facility could manage.

As he undressed himself, Dean simply denied himself the formality of closure. He kept thinking of you. Imagining the intimacy of what a moment such as this could be with you—undressing, caressing one another to only bathe which, for Dean, would lead to more because he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts pure. He admired you, adored you to the point where you had consumed every thought. Dean was seldom embarrassed by his attractions but for you, he was only protected in his small room and the porcelain glass that separated him from the outside.

He stepped into the mild water and let it wash over him in sin. But he couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t stop imagining and fantasizing you and the blood continued to rush through him and begged of him to relieve himself into pleasure. Dean’s soapy hands washed over his head, his chest, and skimmed himself to where the problem laid.

No one would know.

There were inches of concrete walls between himself and the rest of the living world. No one would know.

The soap smooths over him. Gliding his hand in gentle strokes to his cock and in a test, he moves his hand over himself. Lightly gripping it to tug outwards in a shudder of knowing. Dean let the soap guide him, one pump then two. He could feeling the veins strain on his shaft; aching for you but settling for his fist instead.

Dean let the heat of the water rise from the floor in steam. It covered the glass panels of the shower door and filled the mirror therefore he could see no reflection of himself. Completely alone with his thoughts, he muttered a weak, quiet “fuck” and began pumping himself rhythmically. Over and over he felt himself growing in his palm until there was no more length to reach. A shuttered breath left one arm on the tiled wall as the other continued to caress his dick, running over his head and molding over the reddened bulb before falling back down and carelessly tugging at his base more rapidly than before.

“Shit,” Dean gasped as his forehead rested on his outstretched hand and he shut his eyes tightly. He wanted you there instead. He wished it was your hand stroking his cock and leaving wet kisses on his body. The hot water ran along his back to leave red pelts on his skin.

He jerked himself harder, more furiously than before at the thought of you. How you’d kneel on the floor and bruise your knees to pleasure him. The sounds you’d make with him heavy on your tongue or the way your eyes would tear at his thrusts as he cradled the back of your head. Dean’s wrist begged to falter and fall to his sides in agony of you. But he continued. He kept rolling his hand with his member viced inside of it. His other hand forming a tight fist.

Knuckles gone white at the way his heart strained for you.

He groaned in hopes the water drowned him out. That the inches of concrete that separated him were truly thick enough to hide the sounds he emitted and it wasn’t the first time he’d thought such thoughts. Dean didn’t bother stopping because he could feel the sensation building. He felt the tingle this body gave and the pressure building inside of him that needed to come out.

So, faster and faster did he jerk himself to the point of no return. He pulled at the base of his cock, teasing his balls with just a touch before going back and running his hand over all of himself. Dean’s body twitched, head falling onto the tile and his free hand balled into a tight fist as it pounded on the slate.

“Son of a bitch,” he groaned. His toes wanted to curl. His hips now jutting into his hand. Envisioning you kneeling before him, mouth wide and waiting, he choked on his breath and let it out. His finish painted his hand, the wall before him and in his imagination, your face and lips plump with him.

He breathed hard. Exhaling as the steam rose from his feet and the water raining down upon him washed away his release from his hands, the wall and what fell onto the shower floor. Dean ran along his shaft as it spasmed at the sensation. He could feel the tremble in his chest; the rattle of his bones.

You’d kiss up his leg at his coming. Slowly rising on bruised knees to litter soft pecks along his torso and chest and shoulder and neck. He’d relish the feeling of your hands gliding over his body and he’d wrap his own around you.

He’d kiss you. He’d kiss you hard and deep and suffocating underneath the hot water.

But he opened his eyes to nothing. Softening in his palm, Dean raised his hand off and went back for the soap to wash the feeling away. He hated the way his repulsed nature filled the cracks he’d left vulnerable in his end. The way his images of you made him feel… sorry. Somehow deserving to be punished for his fantasy. That there was no reason for him to think such thoughts about you, practically family to him.

Yet he couldn’t stop them. Everyday they grew stronger and harder to ignore.

And one day, maybe he could dream of his fantasies manifesting to reality. You would kneel before him, you would kiss him completely.

As Dean’s shower commenced, all he was left with was the dream.

A/N: Happy new year everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this lil peace and us writers on tumblr are always most motivated by reblogs and comments. Here’s to more Dean fics in 2025! 🥂

[o-sunny-day]

Please Reset Your Save File :)

idk what came over me but here take this forgettable au wingdings undertale ARG ass image

speaking of being a mystery image with secrets to be unlocked, i’m gonna refrain from yapping. do the sleuthing yourself I believe in you

ok…. fine….I cant resist…. BUT DO THE TRANSLATING YOURSELF IM NOT DOING EVERYTHING FOR YOU

Ill start by explaining my proccess cause it was quite eventful!

The jumping off a cliff towards something was inspired off of this tiktok :D

Thought it worked GREAT for a character who was so dead-set on his goal he destroyed himself in the process of achieving it… And thats all I had in mind, Wingdings reaching twords his goal (a star/the player) and the rest I just went along with as I drew

I didn’t intend on the background being black, was just a placeholder, so once I finished the line art I fiddled with the color. thought some sort of “blue screen of death” would go well with the themes of what happens to him since he is IN a game. so the universe literally restarts (resets :3) itself to get rid of a glitch (him)

My theory currently is that his goal was to become some sort of player/gain the ability to reset, and once he did that, the game saw him as an error/glitch, so got rid of that- bro IS Turbo from wreck it ralph

After that whole idea- I was looking at some references to replicate the text and it made me go “OOOHOOO” when I saw the QR code like “oooo I could make my own and have some fun with that…” and so I did- and decided to link my original idea for that!

Reference:

I had fun making some differences in the wording to fit the situation

In the end, 2 silly illustrations that are fun to flicker between!

talking about the actual drawing though:

The cliff Dings is running off of has echo flowers because I SWEAR those are important. trust.

Him not wearing gloves is meant to depict how little he cares for his own safety in his last days. I did the same thing in my IM SANE amv!

The “star” having an eye is meant to show how its both the player, and seeing the stars/surface that Wingdings is reaching for.

The wingdings font covering Dings’ face/eye socket is meant to symbolize that perhaps he feels defined by his inability to communicate like other people naturally can.

“Ths Stars, They Cry Out Your Name” is my favorite thing in this… from Wingdings’ perspective, the only thing that matters, that understands him, that TRULY values him…is THE STARS. its like this goal that he has that will make him feel valued. Getting to the surface = being “worth it” But truly, the stars are the PEOPLE that care about him. Asgore, Alphys, Sans, people that are genuinely concerned over his obviously deteriorating mental health- they CRY out his name, not “call” like I had originally planned.

“66%” hehehehhe funy gaster numbr

ok and last thing- Im gonna cry remembering this dialogue from the official Clock App

its so important for this AU, PLEASE

[coffeegnomee]

I'm reading through my s6 notes and like, Derapchu's ability to detective out what is going on correctly is like, scary.

And as a Zam main, that's so annoying bc when Zam goes sleuthing it's a slow build up and his natural naivety makes it delightful to uncover things, but Derap just instantly comes to a conclusion and it's right so many times. And he never doubts himself.

Derap is almost always wrong about the emotional motivations, the interpersonal reasonings for things, but when it comes to "who did this" or "what is this person planning" he's always right. Like a stupid amount of times. And even with the emotional motivators usually he ends up with the right conclusion but for the wrong reasons.

And that's so interesting to have a character like that. And it hurts him far more than it helps him. Like with the subz wardens, him detectiving out what subz was up to gave him such a big head that he was the one to solve everything that he failed to ever include or count anyone else's contribution to stopping the wardens.

Or realizing Zam gave Bacon hearts made him so much more paranoid of Zam, and the timing of that with the Truman show and Mapicc's creakings made it even worse. And then evidently he never properly allowed himself to process his thoughts on that reality, just let it sit pent up until he went to Minutetech.

And like, the most recent example of how much he was like "i told you guys spoke was up to something!! we should never have been fighting mapicc" (paraphrase) in the finale.

He has this massive need to be right, and it's backed up with a genuine ability to be right, but it shots himself in the foot bc he isn't the only member to be able to understand and read the flow of the server. And one of the marks of an old gen player is that they might know that someone is up to something but until that person logs on and actually does something, the sleuthing has no real outlet and that's okay. Instead of ego, it's just keeping it in the back of the mind.

So even if they know what might happen, they continue to play the server based on what is right in front of them, dealing with the conflicts that are actively brewing and allowing them to take their time even if it "makes more sense" to make up and be friends bc there's a bigger threat looming. None of that matters to old players.

It's just. I'm so intrigued as to how that skill of Derap's is going to continue. Bc his perceptiveness felt like a real detriment at times for the livelihood of the slow story. And I'm so curious to see if it'll be harnessed to make the story more interesting (now that he's lived a whole season) or if it will continue to cause conflict (which i also find interesting). Probably both tbh.

[leejenowrld]

heart to heart — spoiler

pairing — surgeon! na jaemin x intern! y/n

genre — smut, fluff, angst, age gap (10 years, jaemin is older)

word count — 2.9k

authors note — this is quite a generous and lengthy spoiler, fans of ‘love me back’ and ‘back to you’ will appreciate this one a lot. if you’re not familiar with the other two stories in the ‘love and games universe’ then my only advice would be… become familiar LOL, anyways enjoy my loves <3 don’t say i never gave you anything 🫶

Hayoung’s eyes glitter with mischievous delight as she leans closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She’s always been the resident sleuth, devouring every headline, every whisper in the intern’s lounge, cataloguing names and dates like precious specimens in a private menagerie. For her, uncovering the hidden ties that bind people is as satisfying as stitching new stories into a patchwork quilt. Tonight, she’s your guide through an exclusive gallery of Jaemin’s inner circle, each figure more beguiling than the last.

You draw in a shaky breath and edge nearer to the one‐way glass. Hayoung raises a slender finger toward the towering silhouette at the room’s center, a man whose presence feels as inevitable as gravity itself. His broad shoulders fill the crisp lines of his navy blazer, the fabric stretched ever so slightly across a sculpted chest, each inhale subtly flexing muscle beneath starched cotton. His trousers fall in a perfect, confidence-infused drape, hinting at powerful thighs honed by hours on hardwood courts. A tumble of dark curls grazes the nape of his neck, and when he turns, the faint arc of a smirk reveals a jaw so sharply carved it could slice through the hum of conversation. Even from here you catch the swirl of his cologne, something smoky, dark wood warmed by sunlight and feel the air shift around him. In that moment, Lee Jeno is less a man in a room and more a gravitational force: utterly magnetic, a living testament to strength and elegance entwined.

“That’s Lee Jeno, he doesn’t need an introduction. Everyone knows him, the most influential NBA player of his time.” She murmurs, voice hushed as if narrating a masterpiece. “See how he stands, shoulders squared like the corner of a backboard, every line of his tailored suit whispering discipline and power? He’s an NBA legend, record-breaker, triple-double maestro, the kind of athlete whose name is etched into every stat sheet and every fan’s heart. But more than that, he’s been Jaemin’s north star since they were toddlers dreaming of the same impossible things. He was the first to learn of Haeun’s little heartbeat, sneaking into the NICU at dawn to cradle the tiniest secret in his enormous hands. Off the court, he’s quietly philanthropic, rumor has it he quietly funds scholarships for underprivileged kids in his hometown, though he’d never brag. The media paints him as unflappable, the perfect poster boy for athletic excellence, but those who know him well call him fiercely loyal, the kind of man who shows up whether you’ve invited him or not.”

She lets that settle, then nods toward the woman at his side. “And that,” she continues, “is his fiancée, a vision of composure in couture. They met in college, drifted apart, then discovered that some bonds refuse to break. Their love story is whispered about in fashion circles and sports columns alike: soulful reunions, secret late-night text threads, wedding bells set to ring in just a few weeks. It’s the sort of romance you’d write a novel about—timeless, improbable, and entirely, irrepressibly theirs.”

Hayoung tells you that beyond the fairytale love story, she is every bit her own force of nature: the celebrated face of APEX, a powerhouse executive whose razor-sharp intellect and unflinching moral compass have steered global design initiatives and social impact campaigns for over a decade. In boardrooms she commands deference, in studio ateliers she inspires apprentices, and in every exhibition she curates she challenges viewers to see beauty as a catalyst for change. Each year, she and Jeno co-host the hospital’s signature gala, an evening of crystal chandeliers and whispered promises, where proceeds underwrite life-saving surgeries for families who simply can’t shoulder the cost. Hayoung recalls one gala night to you in particular. When little Haeun, clutching Bunny in one hand and a crayon-scrawled invitation in the other, was lifted onto the stage to present a check; the room hushed as the child’s earnest smile lit every heart, and tears of joy stained even the driest cheeks. It was a moment that crystallized their shared mission, to tether privilege to purpose, and to kindle hope in every young life they touch. Each December, they dispatch carefully curated gifts to every child in the ward—small treasures that, come Christmas morning, become lifelong keepsakes.

“Ryujin and Shotaro’s story is kind of a real-life fairy tale,” Hayoung begins, voice warm. “They met during college, he was mastering a contemporary routine, she was perfecting a lyrical piece and sparks flew over perfect pirouettes. Together they opened a tiny dance school in a repurposed loft, teaching six students and dreaming of bigger things. Now? Twelve studios later, they’ve trained hundreds of young dancers, from hopeful amateurs to budding professionals, and their outreach programs have given every child, no matter their background, a chance to feel the magic of movement. They’re always giggling when they talk about how their after-class water breaks turned into marathon brainstorming sessions. ‘What if we could heal with dance?’ and how every new studio opening felt like adding another heartbeat to the city’s rhythm.”

“And that dream brought them here,” she continues, tipping her voice conspiratorially. “Ryujin and Shotaro now co-design the hospital’s pediatric dance-therapy wing, turning sterile hallways into places where little feet learn strength and resilience. They’ve taught Haeun to pirouette past her fears, remember that time she insisted on ‘just one more spin’ even after her echo scan?—and they’ve choreographed holiday performances where she’s always the star. Their partnership isn’t just about fundraising or fancy recitals; it’s about showing every child that joy and healing can bloom side by side, and proving that sometimes the purest medicine comes in the form of music, movement, and a whole lot of love.”

“You see that hot guy by the window? That’s Lee Donghyuck, he’s a sports anchor whose name you can’t scroll past without wanting to know more. He’s the guy who turned a sideline gesture into a signature catchphrase, but off-camera he’s even more impressive: he spearheaded last year’s ‘Heart Run,’ a charity marathon that raised millions for the pediatric ward, and personally negotiated with sponsors so every dollar went straight to families in need. He’s brokered equipment donations, hosted fundraising luncheons in that very lounge, and somehow still remembers every child’s name who’s ever cross-checked him for an autograph. And don’t think he lets Haeun escape his radar. last month he rolled out a mini basketball hoop next to her play corner, just her size, and taught her how to drain a ‘baby three-pointer’ with a flourish. She squealed so loud you could hear it through the corridor, and he bent down afterward, ruffled her curls, and whispered, ‘You’re my MVP, princess.’ Even now she’s peeking at him, cheeks lighting up every time he offers a thumbs-up from across the room. With Donghyuck, it’s never just television bravado, it’s genuine joy in every high-five and every fundraiser he champions, a constant reminder that heroes come in many uniforms.”

She shifts her gaze to another figure: graceful, magnetic. “And finally, that’s Jang Karina. She doesn’t need any introduction, she’s a fashion powerhouse, her silhouette feels sculpted by intention. Karina began as a runway model whose charisma captivated editors and buyers alike; today she presides over a global design empire, her eponymous label celebrated for its architectural lines and daring palettes, while her beauty brand, praised for its clean formulas and bold pigments, has soared into the multimillion-dollar stratosphere. She pioneers mentorship programs for young designers, spearheads sustainable textile initiatives in collaboration with leading research labs, and curates charity auctions that funnel life-saving funds to children’s hospitals around the world. Every accolade she collects, Vogue cover shoots, Council of Fashion Designers awards, front-row appearances at the Met Gala, has been earned by a woman who learned to temper brilliance with empathy, who moved beyond the runway’s glare into the quiet confidence of a leader whose influence stretches from boardrooms to breaking bread with those she protects.”

“Karina and Dr. Na have a tenderness, a shared history written in soft confidences and midnight phone calls. They met during college before either dreamed of a spotlight, she, a striver fresh from design school; he, a busy surgical resident moonlighting to pay his rent. He didn’t like her in college, but they ran into each other in New York and started fucking intensely. Their first real date was over steaming bowls of bibimbap in a corner café, trading fears and ambitions until the staff nudged them out at closing time. Then life intervened—back-to-back seasons for her, grueling on-call marathons for him—and they drifted apart, each chasing dreams they’d once whispered to each other. They’re not really romantic but I’m sure they still fuck, I could bet on it, that’s how confident I am that I’m correct. They’re co-architects of Haeun’s world. She’s the first to arrive with balloons and homemade cookies on scan days, the one whose laugh draws Haeun from any shyness. Karina helps Dr. Na with Haeun a lot.”

Begrudgingly, you learn that they were lovers once, in that brief, incandescent season before parenthood reshaped his every horizon; the memory of their closeness still simmers behind Karina’s steady gaze. Now she arrives at the hospital not as a distant star but as a second mother to Haeun, smoothing stray curls with the gentlest touch and laughing through bedtime stories whispered in the playroom’s lamplight. When she bends to offer Haeun her lap, the little girl curls in as naturally as into her father’s arms, murmuring “Mama Rina” with the surety of a heart that instinctively knows where comfort lives. In every pivot of her poised stride and every warm look she casts at Dr. Na, you sense the unspoken vow: that this chosen family, wrought from loss and love, will hold its orbit against any darkness that dares encroach.

Her tone softens, eyes drifting back through the glass as if she can already see their silhouettes in the corridor. “They’re legends in their own right. Jeno, with championships and record-breaking buzzer-beaters that make arenas tremble; Karina, whose gowns have rewritten the language of fashion and whose makeup line is in every beauty editor’s kit; Ryujin and Shotaro, whose dance therapy programs have coaxed laughter and movement from children who’d forgotten how to feel joy; Donghyuck, whose voice carries stories of triumph on screens that millions tune in to each night. But none of that matters here. What binds them isn’t fame or fortune, it’s this hospital. This place saved Haeun when her own mother tried to end her life before she even drew a single breath, when she was left to die alone on the rooftop. Doctors patched her broken heart; nurses soothed her frightened sobs; researchers here keep rewriting the rules of what sick children can endure. Every gala Karina co-hosts, every scholarship Jeno underwrites, every dance-floor fund Shotaro and Ryujin open, all of it funnels back into this ward. They fund free surgeries for babies born blue-liped, they underwrite outreach clinics in forgotten towns, they sponsor scholarship nurses who stay to care for children no matter the cost. They do it all because of Haeun. Because she survived the darkness, they learned what true rescue means, and found a way to pay her back in light.”

Your heart twists in your chest as you watch Karina cradle Haeun at the edge of the room, tiny arms fluttering around Karina’s neck like fledgling wings seeking warmth. Karina’s hair tumbles over her shoulders in waves of midnight silk, each strand catching the light of the conference wing’s golden glow. Her posture is an unspoken manifesto of poise: spine straight as a ballet barre, shoulders soft but unyielding, gaze warm enough to melt the iciest boardroom. Haeun’s laughter resonates like a chime, and Karina responds with a low, musical hum, her fingers tracing idle patterns in Haeun’s curls. You step back, scrubs suddenly heavy on your skin, as though you’ve walked into a painting you were never meant to touch. The distance between you and this effortless grace stretches taut, and you wonder how you—ten years her junior, still mastering knotting sutures and bedside manner—could ever bridge the gap. You feel like a child intruding on a world you can’t touch: awkward in your youth, your intern’s scrubs swallowed by the hush of designer silks and tailored blazers. 

Your cheeks burn when you realize how small you feel here: stripped of your usual confidence, every inch of your skin prickles with self-consciousness. You recall the times you braided Haeun’s hair, the soft “thank you, my wuv” she pressed against your palm, and you ache to belong in that gentle space again. But here, in the orbit of Karina’s radiance, you are merely a shadow, an earnest trainee whose greatest accolade is a passing nod from Dr. Na. While Karina, in the privacy of their past, has lost herself on his cock a million times, a fiery intimacy you ache to claim as your own. You tighten your grip on the edge of your clipboard, fingernails biting into the paper, and force your gaze back to the room. Yet even as you try to anchor yourself, your eyes betray you, drifting back to Karina’s measured smile, the easy way she curls a lock of Haeun’s hair behind her ear, the quiet assurance that you can never duplicate.

It’s not merely Karina’s beauty that stings, it’s her history, her accomplishments writ large in the world Jaemin inhabits. You think of the single-family flats you shared with overwhelmed roommates, long shifts of charting before dawn, the perpetual undercurrent of imposter syndrome that thrums beneath your every success. Karina, by contrast, has carved an empire from thread and vision, her name sewn onto the seats of fashion capitals from Paris to Tokyo. She is the creative force behind runway shows that have shaped decades of style; the philanthropist whose gala soirées have raised millions for pediatric research; the mentor whose apprentices now stand on stage in their own right. And here she is, bending gentle and unguarded over Haeun—an innocent whose life Karina helped to celebrate, whose future she pledged to support long before you ever learned your first surgical knot.

You flush all the way to your fingertips as you recall Hayoung’s hushed confession about Karina and Dr. Na’s secret trysts—how Karina’s satin lips once pressed against his throat in the moonlight, how she gasped his name as his fingers tangled in her platinum-blonde waves. Your pulse hammers when you imagine those heated nights, Karina draped over him like silk, whispering his name between breathless moans. You bite your lip, thighs trembling, picturing yourself in her place—skin slick, lips parted, arching beneath his touch as he buries himself deep inside you. Every polished step in these hospital halls suddenly feels charged with forbidden promise: could those same strong hands guide your body, curl you into whispered ecstasy until you’re nothing but warm, quivering mush in his arms? The thought sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you press a hand to your chest, breathing unevenly, desperate for even a flicker of that raw, unfiltered passion Karina once claimed as her birthright.

Karina’s presence is almost mythic: hair that falls in glossy waves around a face sculpted by years of confidence, eyes that have both softened at a child’s smile and hardened at the cruelties of fashion backstage. She embodies refinement and resolve—each step a whisper of silk, each laugh a note of genuine warmth. Haeun clings to her as though born knowing Karina’s arms are safe harbors: tiny fingers threading through Karina’s familiarity, curls brushing Karina’s velvet collar. You watch that bond and ache—you’re not certain you could learn the art of such effortless love, not sure you could anchor Haeun’s heart as deeply, as naturally, as one who has guided her through every high-profile gala and quiet bedtime story alike. In that moment, you feel the full weight of your inexperience, the impossibility of matching a grace so honed, so intrinsic. The envy blossoms bitterly in your chest, and you wonder if you will ever find your own place in Haeun’s world beyond the shadow of these legends.

You turn your gaze inward, the harsh white of hospital walls receding as memory and desire entwine into a single, bitter bloom. You recall the early mornings when you and Haeun would share cereal in the NICU hallway, your voice the only anchor to her frightened world. You remember the fear that distilled your every thought when her tiny chest stuttered for breath, and the primal desire to be the guardian of her heart. Yet here, in the glow of polished floors and the gentle murmur of celebrities-turned-family, you feel neither hero nor protector. only an outsider whose worth is measured in clinical competence, not in the kind of love that sees without pretense. The ache in your ribs intensifies, a reminder that motherhood, in its many forms, is not won by credentials or passion alone but by the quiet alchemy of trust, time, and intimacy. You realize that Karina has woven herself into Haeun’s life with every shared story, every whispered promise, every dance lesson sponsored and every stolen cuddle. And you, still learning the rhythms of both scalpels and lullabies, are left yearning for a place in the soft tapestry they have created. You close your eyes for a moment, drawing a shaky breath, and resolve to carve out your own kind of sanctuary, a space in Haeun’s world defined by your devotion, your sleepless nights, your relentless hope that even the most fragile hearts can find new wings.

taglist — @yukisroom97 @fancypeacepersona @jaeminnanaaa17 @shiningnono @junrenjun @honeybeehorizon @neotannies @noorabora @oppabochim @chenlesfeetpic @kynessa @awktwurtle @euphormiia @hi00000234527 @yvvnii @sunwoosberrie @ppeachyttae @dee-zennie @ballsackzz101 @neonaby @kukkurookkoo @antifrggile @dedandelion @fymine @zoesruby @yoonohswife @jessga @markerloi @ryuhannaworld @yasminetrappy @sunghoonsgfreal @jaemjeno @lovetaroandtaemin @yunhoswrldddd @dowoonwoodealer @enhalovie @jenzyoit @sunseteternal @dewyspace @markiesfatbooty @raysofpolaris @sunseteternal @oppabochim @markerloi @xiuriii

[magiiheim]

Just a little scribble to shake off the art block. @thetwilightroadtonightfall requested Ephemer be sleuthing feat my Player (pre war fit) and the girlies who’s just confused as to what they all are witnessing. Ephemer isn’t subtle and I’m surprise no one just sees him messing around more often. Then again I feel like everyone is having conversations out loud in this town.

If I were more skilled I’d draw the bg alas I am but a novice and need to get good at bg. One day.

Thank you for the funny little prompt

[digi-lov]

DIGIMON CARD GAME: Next Plan Announcement

Very exciting news for what's to come in 2025 and beyond!! Must read for Appmon fans!

SPECIAL BOOSTER Ver.2.5 [BT19-20] Release Date: February 28, 2025!

In Japan the next release is BT-20 Booster Over the X!

We got some previews of what to expect! With Tamers from Digimon Chronicle and Chronicle X, Digimon Seekers, and Digimon Liberator, as well as Alphamon Ouryuken Ace and Zephagamon Ace!!

The Special Booster Ver. 2.5 will include serial cards WarGreymon & MetalGarurumon!

There will be a Celebration Event for Special Booster Ver. 2.5 The Event Period is February 21 - March 7, 2025 and all players will receive a BT20-090 Yuuki alt-art as a prize!

Here's another look at the first wave of official sleeves for 2025!

Next we have the illustration and logo to commemorate the global unification of the Digimon Card Game release! This included the Japanese, English, and Simplified Chinese releases.

The Release dates for the next Starter Decks, ST-20 Protector of Light and ST-21 Hero of Hope have been revealed to be April 18, 2025!

These Starter Decks will include double tamers for the Adventure cast, as well as "Scramble" cards of all colors with new artwork!

There will also be a Release Event encouraging people to introduce friends to the game!

Next up, the release date of BT-21 World Convergence on April 25, 2025!

This set will once again include Digimon and Tamers from all anime seasons, but now including Digimon Universe Applimonsters!

Now we also finally got to see the new [Link] keyword! This effect reads as follows, in this case for [Appmon] trait: Cost 1 (Plug this card from the hand or battle area sideways into the specified Digimon in the battle area.) In the case of this Gatchmon card, this will give the linked Digimon an extra 2000 DP!

BT-21 will also include Owen Dreadnought and Elizamon, and Zenith and Vemmon from Digimon Liberator!

We will also get the previously announced signed cards, and now get a look at the artist's signatures!

Titamon by toriyufu, WarGreymon (X Antibody) by As'Maria, Agunimon by Naochika Morishita, Lanamon by Tonamikanji, Beelzemon: Blast Mode by Keita Amemiya, GraceNovamon by Nakano Haito, and Zephagamon by sasasi!

We also get a sneak peak at the cards from the "Illustration Celebration Pack" which will be included as Box topper! These cards had previously been voted for by attendees of Digimon Con 2024, and got new artworks by the same artists.

There will also be a purchase bonus pack, [LM-05], with 6 new promos and 4 alt-art reprints! The new cards are Valkyrimon, Vikemon, Regalecusmon, Rasielmon, Darkdramon Ace, and Ghoulmon Ace!

Much like the Special Booster Ver. 2.5 will include numbered WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon, BT-21 will feature a low pull-rate numbered Omnimon!

Now more looks at future releases!

EX-09 Extra Booster VERSUS MONSTERS has been announced, with a release date of June 26, 2025! This set will pay homage to the Digital Monster Ver. 1-5 v-pets!

It is unclear if the cards with these special borders will be the Special Rares of the set, or if all cards will recieve them.

Next up, BT-22 Boster CYBER EDEN, a long awaited Cyber Sleuth set! This will be Aiba Ami's debut to the card game! Scheduled to release July 25, 2025!

A tease for EX-10 Extra Booster SINISTER ORDER! They say it will include Villains from all Digimon Anime Seasons! Scheduled to release September 19, 2025!

Then an announcement for LM-06 Limited Card Pack BILLION BULLET! Pre-orders will start in March 2025 with a planned delivery in October 2025! What do you think could be in there?

Lastly another encouragement to go read Digimon Liberator! We got a preview of Episode 10 Part 1 and 2 covers, with the first "good look" at Violet's Ghostmon in its new mega form!

[formulakracing]

🏎️ the garage 🏎️

this is where i am going to keep all of my upcoming works! they will be sitting in the garage, waiting to be released out onto the grid! <3

✧˖ ° key ✧˖ °

in the garage - upcoming works to be posted sometime this week

at the paddock - upcoming works, more than likely posted within the next one to two weeks

residing at team headquarters - ideas i have brewing, perhaps potential series or fic ideas, a lot of rambling more than likely, fics to be posted at some point in time

˚∘⊰ in the garage ⊱˚∘

mile high club -> mercedes driver!reader x toto wolff

the gray areas -> team principal!reader x toto wolff

first time for everything -> virgin!reader x toto wolff

what they want -> mercedes driver reader x toto wolff {angst + smut}

{untitled} -> chapter two of college student!reader x daniel

{untitled} -> the first chapter of vampire!toto x student intern!reader

{untitled} -> midwestern!reader x carlos sainz

˚∘⊰ at the paddock ⊱˚∘

girlfriend!reader x toto wolff -> haunted house special!

sugar baby!reader x toto wolff

reader x toto wolff -> social media stranger au

just one date -> part ii. of toto wolff x horner's!daughter reader

gf!reader x toto -> toto takes the reader on their first date as a couple. all of the fluffiness and goodness in the world!

{untitled} -> chapter four of girls like u

{untitled} -> chapter two of princess!reader x knight!oscar piastri

˚∘⊰ residing at team headquarters ⊱˚∘

reader x toto wolff -> inspired by too sweet by hozier

gf!reader x toto wolff smut -> toto making you walk around the brackley home naked so he can have easy access whenever he wants

reader x seb vettel fluff -> cute moments over the radio hehe

{untitled} alkaline spin-off -> where gg wins in austria and toto rewards her

{untitled} alkaline spin-off -> the one where gg is pregnant and toto is the best dad & attentive partner ever

{untitled} alkaline spin-off -> where gg introduces toto to her parents

fernando x actress!reader -> smau

female!driver x grid -> where the grid reacts to her not having a definitive seat for next season

olympian!reader x toto wolff -> the reader is the goat but is a little upset toto wants to keep their relationship under wraps. after a huge fight, toto comes to the realization that maybe she deserves to be shown off

olympian!reader x danny ric -> danny is so stoked to show off his stud of a girlfriend

toto being obsessed with reader's chest -> a oneshot of toto invested in some tatas

singer!reader x checo -> sometimes internet sleuths can expose someone's biggest secret, no matter how famous they are

enemies to lovers -> toto wolff

{untitled alkaline spin-off} -> the one where toto has a massive breeding kink

{untitled} driver!reader x joe burrow

{untitled} engineer!reader x josh allen

reporter!reader x toto wolff — based on the infamous football interview moment

alkaline spin-off -> gg gets in a crash and susie helps out for toto

max verstappen x wolff!reader -> max and toto's wolff daughter have been secretly seeing one another. that is, until a little weasel airs it all out in abu dhabi

checo pérez x wife!reader -> with the influx of hate checo has been receiving lately, he's in desperate need of some comfort

alkaline spin-off -> gg & toto get into a heated argument during a race weekend. toto says some things he can't take back, and boy, does gg hold a grudge

alkaline spin-off -> gg and george get into it and poor toto is caught in the middle. will he defend gg or will he tell her that he's on george's side for this one?

alkaline spin-off -> toto is a bit in his head after discovering some leaked photos of gg with lawrence stroll. was she just being polite or were there ulterior motives?

max verstappen x tennis player!reader -> max is so supportive of his badass girlfriend who happens to be one of the biggest tennis stars in the world

toto wolff x figure skater!au -> toto wolff and his controversial young, hot girlfriend. this time, she's an elite figure skater. nothing but endless fluff and supportive moments!

fan!reader x sebastian vettel -> a fic inspired by the song "fictional"

toto wolff x reader -> it's clear that toto wolff has a girlfriend. but who is she? one weekend at the paddock is all it takes for the world to know exactly who she is.

sebastian's sister!reader x kimi räikkönen -> the younger sister of an infamous driver is very eager to prove to the ice man that she is more than just a family name

wwe diva!reader x fernando alonso -> why is nando at a wwe event? who is he there to watch? it's more than likely his sexy wwe girlfriend!

sebastian vettel x red bull princess!reader -> a fic set in the early 2010s with seb and his red bull princess

just a reminder that my requests are always open! if you would like to see your idea come to life, feel free to send a message in my inbox! <3